The Encounter
by pigwiz
Summary: It's been so long...


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**The Encounter**

He was bone tired.

First, a red eye from Seattle to Miami.

Then directly to an all day meeting and semi training session at their largest client's offices.

And now the dinner.

The damn catered dinner with mystery beef or even more mysterious chicken. But, on the up side, the client's sales manager had asked what room he was in, and continued to stay by his side for the entire day. Maybe the evening wouldn't be a total waste. That is if her 'hospitality' measured up to the attention she was giving him. The woman was hot in that South Florida way.

Finally, it was down to dessert. He'd made his obligatory ten minute speech (number 41 in his speech vault) and would soon be ignoring the generic pie ala mode that was listed on the menu.

A fresh batch of waiters and waitresses began pushing out carts laden with the melting ice cream and nameless pie.

And there she was.

It was _her_.

The sales manager, what was her name? Yeah, Lisa… had said something.

He nodded, not knowing what she had said or caring. _She_ saw him, just then.

She had stopped mid reach, handing someone their desert plate, but had recovered much quicker that he could have thought possible. She was staring at him while saying something to the faceless person receiving the dessert plate.

My god it was her.

She continued around the table she was assigned to. He never did break his stare. She did so only when it was necessary.

Then she was finished.

She looked away and pushed her cart back into the bowels of the banquet area that she had come from.

Lisa was asking him something, again, but he made some excuse and excused himself from the table. Quickly finding the double swinging doors labeled 'STAFF', he entered the abyss. A hallway filled with rolling carts and dirty dishes. A small wiry fellow with an overly soiled apron and shirt was pulling one of the carts further down toward the opposite end. He caught up to him easily and described her and asked where she was.

The fellow smiled and shook his head: "No habla English, senior."

He quickly replied "camarera rubia."

The busboy grinned and said "si, si" while pointing to some doors at the end of the hall.

He hurried ahead and pushed open the doors and entered a kitchen. A huge kitchen with what seemed like a thousand people in white aprons milling about.

He stopped and asked a number of people, nothing… Finally a Bellhop in a red suit looked at his watch, and said "Oh, yeah. She just finished her shift. I saw her leaving just a moment ago."

He had missed her. He was meant to leave in the morning. Now he'd stay an extra day.

He didn't want to make a scene; the nearby staff were beginning to look at him funny. He found his way into the lobby, and checked for messages at the desk.

He had been so rushed he'd never really had time to go to his room. The concierge informed him that his luggage had already been deposited in his suite, and everything taken care of. He asked the concierge if there was any way to get a Cuban cigar while placing a fifty on the desktop. The man told him those were illegal and couldn't be had in the states, while handing him a small foil wrapped, cigar shaped item and a box of wooden matches. The fifty had disappeared.

Finally in his rooms he sat for a while and reflected. He relived their last moments together nearly ten years ago. Him pleading for her to come with him, she was refusing. The job in Chicago was important for his corporate climb, he'd told her and himself then. And until about half an hour ago, he had still believed that.

He changed out of his suit, and into a pair of Levis and a tee shirt. Regardless of the humidity, he took a snifter of brandy and his 'illegal' cigar out on the balcony. He lit the cigar, and sipped his brandy and looked out over the back of the hotel from his tenth floor vantage point.

Down by the pool, sitting in the near darkness was a solitary figure, a woman, staring back up at him.

It was her.

She stood.

He felt he'd been turned into a slab of granite, a statue.

She turned as if to leave. Stopped, turned back and motioned for him to join her.

He nodded, waved, and left the balcony.

Five minutes later they hugged, told each other how much they hadn't changed in the last ten years, and reminisced.

He noticed she wasn't wearing a ring. And neither was he.

She said she had drifted a while, ending up here. The weather was gruesome, but the work was steady.

He told her he was back living in Seattle. And was now a Vice President in charge of training and employee development.

Her cell phone rang, she answered. She said she would be home soon, and hung up. That was James, her boyfriend. They live in Hialeah, she explained.

He nodded, and kept his composure. Stunned as he was, he smiled and asked if she had time for lunch tomorrow.

No, she said. She was off tomorrow, and had things to do.

They stood, they hugged, they said goodbye.

He watched her leave.

A pink post-it note stuck to his door said 'Lisa was here' and included a local phone number.

He entered his rooms and dropped the note in the trash.

Back in Seattle, his boss agreed. An account of this size would do well with a corporate presence of his stature. He was to make the grueling weekly trips, each lasting two days and continuing for twelve weeks.

On trip one, he saw her working in the coffee shop, they chatted briefly between her customers.

The chats got slightly longer on trips two, three and four. Except for scenery changes as her assignments moved her back and forth from fine dining and the coffee shop, the chats were pretty much the same.

On trip five, she agreed to lunch on his next trip, on trip six… she was a no show.

He had gotten to know the concierge a bit, since each week he asked for an 'illegal' cigar. Tonight, he asked him about her schedule. The concierge looked at him for a moment and quietly said that employee information was not…

He placed a $100.00 bill on the counter.

The concierge stopped speaking for a moment, looked at the bill, and then continued:

…normally available. But Mr. Franklin has special privileges. I'll see you in your room in about a half hour…

He answered the knock on the door; the concierge gave him a photocopied single sheet of paper. Her name was towards the bottom of the schedule. Her days off had changed. Not a problem.

The next week he was two days earlier. She was in the coffee shop. She looked upset when he sat down at the counter just across from her. She quietly told him to be in his room at six that evening. She then turned to a co-worker and announced it was time for her break, and left.

At five he called room service and ordered two steak and lobster dinners to be delivered at five fifty five, no later, no earlier.

At five fifty four, the dinners were delivered on a rolling cart. Their aroma filled the room.

At two minutes past six there was a knock at the door. It was her. She came in, looked at the dinner cart, uncovered the plates and recovered them. He invited her to join him for dinner.

"No!" She said.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can just waltz back into my life after all this time? You can go to hell! Don't ever bother me again!" She vehemently said.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" He shouted.

"You're the one that said you could never leave Seattle. You're the one that refused to go with me to Chicago. You knew it was only temporary. That it would be a couple years at most. You said you could never leave Seattle and then I find you here in Miami?" He'd continued ranting.

"You abandoned me!" She shouted back.

He stopped for a moment, and stared at her. He couldn't believe this could even be happening. He briefly thought he would back down, try to save the evening, but his anger made him decide otherwise.

"Abandoned you! How the hell did I abandon you? I had given you the fucking airline ticket! I had rented a nice condo for us! That's for US! Abandon you… I called you the next day and you were gone! No one knew where you were. I found out later you had traded the ticket in for a flight to Atlanta. Atlanta! What the fuck was in Atlanta?" He yelled back at her.

"You just stay the hell away from me! Don't even try to talk to me, just stay away!" She said.

She opened the door and walked out, slamming it shut behind her.

Soon after, he pushed the untouched meal cart back out into the hallway. He'd lost his appetite.

Later that week, back in his Seattle offices, he assigned the Miami project to his assistant. Telling his boss that work was piling up, and he needed to stay. His boss shrugged and said 'fine'.

The project ended. It was an extreme success. Huge bonuses and accolades were presented to him and his assistant. And of course, more projects.

One month, then two passed. It was a Friday of an especially grueling week. He was just glad it was over. It was raining and cold. But he had finally started to feel better about his Miami encounter. He was nearly over her. Despite the dreary weather he was feeling pretty good. Driving home, he stopped for some Chinese take out.

Entering his house, he checked his mail, then his answering machine. Ads and nothing. Making his way into his kitchen he took the containers of food out of the bag and set a plate out for himself. Opening the containers he was just about to serve himself when the door bell rang.

It was her, complete with luggage.

"Well Fredular, here I am. Now what?" She said looking a bit nervous.

He stepped out, gave her a long hug, and took her suitcase.

"Um… How about Beijing Beef and Chow Mein?" He asked.

She smiled. So did he…

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